


Sfumato

by niabran



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Artist AU, Eventual Smut, Fluff, M/M, Slow Burn, artist!yuuri, victor still skates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-29 07:41:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10849497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niabran/pseuds/niabran
Summary: Sfumato- The technique of letting colors gradually blend into one another, until their outlines disappear.Yuuri knew being an artist would be a challenge, but when he catches the eye of world-famous Victor Nikiforov, soon after losing the chance of a scholarship to his dream art school, he has to learn new ways of achieving success and love.





	1. Chapter 1

            Yuuri sat slumped in an overstuffed chair near the coffee shop window, green tea left forgotten on the table. Night was falling. He was unsure how long he had been hunched over. Stretching his sore arms over his head with a sigh, he felt residual tears brim under his eyes as he thought about the events of that morning.

            “I knew I was mediocre,” Yuuri murmured to himself as he pulled his sketchbook out of his backpack. It was becoming late but he didn’t feel up to returning to his apartment and telling Phichit the disappointing news, even though he was sure he had figured the obvious. Yuuri had avoided checking his phone but had heard his text tone pestering him more as the night went on. He pushed his phone deeper into his jeans as he pulled out a pencil from his backpack.

            A month previously, Yuuri had entered the annual scholarship competition at his dream school, the Detroit College of Visual Arts, and against all odds had made it to the semifinal, but hadn’t managed to place. The ride back that morning consisted of him picking at his hangnails and fighting back tears. When the bus dropped him off downtown at the stop near his apartment, he instead made a beeline for the most calming place he knew, Utopia Coffee. It was a small café near his community college that had more plants than patrons, with an intimately sized seating area that prevented it from ever becoming overstimulating.

            Yuuri took a deep breath as he stroked his pencil over the sketchpad. His mind focused on the reassuring feeling of graphite scratching on paper. Though he was miserable from his disappointing day, his negative thoughts soon became muffled. Minutes slipped by, and when Yuuri glanced up, he was startled by the antique clock on the wall saying it was already 9:30 pm. He turned his attention to packing up his things and taking a gulp of his now-cold tea when a jingle from the front distracted him.

            Possibly the most attractive man he’d ever seen rushed in, long-fingered hands untwining a cobalt scarf from his graceful neck. Yuuri couldn’t help but stare, mouth hanging open, as the stranger strode up to the counter and spoke with the barista in hushed tones. He was quickly handed a plain large coffee as he turned and started walking in Yuuri’s direction. In panic, Yuuri flipped his sketchbook back open and pretended to be working in order to prevent himself from gawping.

            The man sat down on a barstool near the entrance, crossing his legs with a self-assured air and setting his steaming coffee down on the bar facing the window. Yuuri glanced up through his lashes as the man distractingly ran a hand though his silver bangs. He seemed to be on the lookout for someone, so Yuuri took the opportunity to take in his features in more detail. His eyes were the same shade as his expensive-looking scarf, even from a distance, and his bone structure was a fascinating blend of masculine and feminine. Without even realizing it, Yuuri’s hand started sketching out his profile. He wondered if the man was a model, or maybe an actor- something about the way that the planes of his body converged was an expression of confidence and artistry that Yuuri wasn’t used to seeing, and he couldn’t help but record it.

            Yuuri had already filled multiple pages of his sketchbook, thoughts of his demanding morning forgotten. A moment later, when Yuuri’s eyes darted up, he was alarmed to see that his subject was gazing back, smile tilting his face into something new. With mounting horror, the silver-haired stranger stood up and headed towards him, coffee in hand.

            Yuuri compulsively stuffed his book into his bag and went to take a sip of tea, slopping some on his white sweater in the process. He groaned internally as the man sat down opposite of him.

            “Hi there! What’s your name?” he asked, mercifully not mentioning the spreading stain on his front.

            “K-Katsuki Yuuri, hello,” he replied, feeling self-conscious of his obvious accent and the green splotch dominating his slight appearance. Victor gave him a reassuring smile and flicked his bangs out of his eyes again. “I’m Victor Nikiforov, pleased to meet you! I was just wondering why you’ve been staring at me is all?” he asked, flourishing his question with a wink.

            Yuuri felt himself flush as his mind rushed without success to find an excuse. After a painful moment of silence, he reached into his bag with trembling hands and pulled out the drawings, sliding them towards Victor. With a quirked brow, Victor flipped though the pages, tapping his foot. Yuuri slumped deep into his chair, wishing he could inconspicuously pull his jumper over his head or jump though the window without causing alarm.

            “Wow! These are amazing, you must be an artist, yes?” Victor gently closed the book and handed it back, brushing their fingers together in the process. Yuuri felt his panic dissipate into disbelief.

            “Ah, yes, not a real one, not really, but uh, you know- I like drawing,” he stammered as he zipped up his belongings.

            “Well, I’m honored to have been your subject then, Yuuri! Do you come here often? I don’t believe I’ve seen you here before.”

            “Mmm, yes, pretty often, I actually go to community college nearby, so…” Yuuri replied. He found it hard to look straight into Victor’s eyes.

            “That’s great! I’ve actually only been here a few times, I just moved into the area! Still learning where the best spots are,” said Victor. He smiled down at Yuuri and sipped his coffee, and it occurred to Yuuri that he should say something, but he felt as though his mind was moving at half speed. A beat of awkward silence passed before Yuuri abruptly stood up.

            “I’m sure you’re waiting for someone, so I’ll leave you alone now, but it was nice meeting you and I hope you have a great night” rushed Yuuri, already pushing open the door as he finished his self-conscious speech.

            As he left, Victor watched him go, a regretful look on his face.

 

* * *

            Yuuri’s heart hammered in his chest as he made the short walk home. “I’m such an idiot, Jesus Christ,” he said faintly as he rounded the corner. He reached into his pocket for his phone and saw five missed texts from Phichit, as well as a missed call from his mom. He paused, pinching the bridge of his nose, before sending a quick ‘be home soon, 5 mins’ to his roommate and then dialing his mom. He let the phone ring until the voicemail kicked in before saying, “Sorry Mom, busy day. But I didn’t get the scholarship. Say hi to everyone for me, bye.” He exhaled heavily, watching his breath condense in the still-chilly spring air, and reached for the front door to the apartment lobby.

            It was an old brick building erected back when Detroit wasn’t quite as grim, with twelve floors rented strictly to students in the area. Though not updated in over a decade, Yuuri enjoyed living there, mainly because of convenience. The elevator ride to the top floor was quick, and soon Yuuri was walking down the hall of tacky carpet and sliding his key in the lock.

            “Yuuri! Is everything alright?” asked Phichit, brow furrowed with concern, as Yuuri collapsed on their couch. He smiled feebly before replying, “As you can imagine, I didn’t get the scholarship. I just stopped to get some tea.” Phichit ignored the fact that Yuuri should have arrived home three hours ago, as well as the large green stain on his front, and instead thumped him companionably on the shoulder and stood up.

            “Forget them, Yuuri! We’ll start our own art school and send them rejection letters before they even apply,” he said, walking into the tiny attached kitchen and plating up some pizza rolls. Yuuri chuckled before reaching into his bag and opening his sketchbook again, absentmindedly running a finger over a doodled Victor.

            “Hey, how did practice go today?” asked Yuuri. Phichit was not only a great roommate, but also a professional ice skater. They were mutually in awe of each other’s talent and always insisting that the other was luckier. Phichit returned to the couch, handing Yuuri a plate, before replying, “It was great! I’m landing Salchows more regularly now and Celestino seemed enthusiastic.” He bit into a pizza roll and spat it out with a squeak of pain before continuing; “Also, there’s a rumor going ‘round that Victor Nikiforov is in Detroit for some reason! But that doesn’t make sense.” Yuuri coughed on his own pizza roll and Phichit had to thump him on the back before he could turn his sketchbook towards him.

            “This man came in and I couldn’t help but draw him, not discreetly enough I guess because he sat down and introduced himself and accused me of staring at him, which I guess I was…”

            “Ho-ly shit. You ran into him? Wait, he _spoke_ to you? Please tell me you got his autograph or kissed his designer shoes or something. He is _the_ number one ice skater on the planet, I can’t believe it.” Phichit gazed at him, eyes glossing over, before adding, “You didn’t catch a whiff of his cologne, did you? I heard it has gold bits in it.”

            Yuuri felt lightheaded and rested his head on the couch. Wordlessly, Phichit reached for Yuuri’s sketchbook and held it in his lap, gazing down at the incredible likeness that he had captured.

            “For real though, Yuuri, you should have gotten that full ride. But it will work out, you’re the most talented person I’ve ever met.” He smiled brightly at him as he handed the sketchbook back and stretched, spine crackling. “I’m gonna head to bed, see ya bright and early tomorrow.” With that, he left down a narrow hallway at the end of the living room, and Yuuri was alone with his thoughts.

            It was strange that Victor had commented on him staring at all; it seemed as though he’d be used to it as an apparent celebrity. Yuuri drummed his fingers on the sofa seat and nibbled another pizza roll in consideration. He wished that he hadn’t left things so typically awkward, and felt a strange mix of hope and despair. After finishing off the rolls, he headed to his bedroom to spend some time on art commissions before bed, already overcome with exhaustion.

 

* * *

            “Look at how gifted he is! See, I’m not even exaggerating! And he’s so cute, I wish he’d post more selfies,” Victor gushed, angling Yuuri’s instagram towards his best friend. Chris took the phone with a roll of his eyes and started scrolling.

            “Oh, Vic, you may be in trouble. It looks like he spends a lot of time with that Chulanont boy. The Thai skater? His main rink must be in Detroit as well.” He handed the phone back and took a long swallow of his chai latte. “Looks like you’ll have some competition for once."

            Victor chuckled at Chris and then, with a split second of consideration, hit the follow button, leaning back in the same spot that Yuuri had been sitting previously. He thought of Yuuri’s soft looking hair and timid smile and knew that he had already found his favorite café.

* * *

 

* * *

**couple o' things!**

1\. I'm planning to update once or twice a week! Probably around 6 (?) chapters.

2\. This is very very un-beta'd.

3\. Thanks so much for reading!

 


	2. Chapter 2

            “Now what do you guys think of the line quality here? It’s really smart how Sara put such emphasis on the curves of the figure, that’s a great way to establish form. Can I hear from someone who hasn’t critiqued yet? Yuuri?”

            The slight, bespectacled man sat up with a start and anxiously uncrossed his legs, squinting at the front of the classroom. His figure drawing class was at the end of an early morning critique and Yuuri regretted staying up late last night to work on last-minute art commissions. His classmate’s projects were lined up on the wall of the room, illuminated by a row of lights above the students’ heads. Yuuri’s was off to the side, and he couldn’t help but overanalyze his and wish he’d done it differently. His was more gestural and stood out dramatically from the rest of the projects, but Professor Baranovskaya, his somewhat severe mentor, had encouraged his project with enthusiasm.

            “Ah, well, I like how you positioned the figure on your canvas, the composition is nice,” he said quietly to Sara, who beamed at him in response. There was a beat of silence as Mila, Sara’s best fiend, yawned and received an icy look from the professor.

            “Alright. Let’s end critique here. In regards to your next assignment, we’re going to be experimenting with drawing the figure while it’s in motion. You’re going to need to find a volunteer and do progress sketches of your concept, due next Monday. Treat this like it’s for a client, everyone! Have a great rest of your day.” Baranovskaya gave a tight-lipped smile to her class and flicked on the lights.

            Yuuri blinked owlishly and then removed his project from the wall, taking care not to smudge the charcoal, and slid it into his portfolio. He left towards the elevator, happy that class had gotten out a few minutes early so he wouldn’t have to squeeze in the elevator with his bulky portfolio and irritate anyone, and turned on his phone. He opened instagram as the elevator began its decent, noticing that he’d had a sudden influx of followers that morning. Tapping the notification button, his breath caught when he saw the familiar name of a new follower, ‘v-nikiforov.’ With shaking fingers he scrolled through Victor’s feed, considered following back, and instead stuffed his phone back into his pocket.

* * *

            Yuuri was at his regular spot at Utopia, waiting for Phichit to join him after his own class. After exhausting all his regular time-killing activities on his mac, including some mindless Buzzfeed quizzes, he looked covertly around the coffee shop before opening up Youtube. In the search bar he typed ‘Victor Nikiforov ice skating.’ A startling number of videos popped up in response, and he clicked the first one, inserting his earbuds.

            Victor looked like an ethereal being as he slowly raised a slender arm and flourished it away, gracefully turning with the start of gentle piano. He glided backwards with an elegant tilt of the neck, smiled softly before going into a nimble jump. He landed fluidly and lowered onto one knee, soaring over the glistening ice. Yuuri wondered how long he’d been performing in order to have such an expert command of his skill. He started spinning, arching his back in a way that made Yuuri’s heart flip over, and that’s when Phichit sat down next to him.

            “Oh my, Yuuri, am I interrupting something private?” asked Phichit, winking as he set down his coffee and slid off his backpack.

            “Phichit! Jesus, I didn’t see you come in!” said Yuuri, blushing up to his bangs.

            “No wonder, you looked preeetty busy,” said Phichit with a giggle. “How was crit?” He took a sip of his coffee before grimacing and adding five packets of sugar.

            “Mm, pretty okay. I’m supposed to draw someone in motion for my next project, is it cool if I tag along to your practice this weekend?”

            “Seems like you’d be more attentive to watching Victor skate, buddy,” Phichit replied. “But if you want.” He took another sip and nodded in satisfaction, kicking his legs up. “Also, don’t be so modest. I’m sure everyone fell to their knees when they saw your drawing.”

            “Ha, hardly. I’m just another community college pretend artist. Oh! That reminds me, look at this. Do you think it’s a fan account or something?” Yuuri opened instagram and showed Phichit the notification from earlier.

            “Yuuri! Don’t you know how instagram works? He has that verified button thingy. Holy shit, he remembered your name, apparently spilling tea on yourself is a good route to go when seducing celebrities.”

            Yuuri gave him a sarcastic laugh that ended abruptly when he saw who was walking down the sidewalk towards Utopia.

            “Oh. My God. Speaking of Victor, I have to go because I think he might be coming in here.” Phichit put a firm hand on Yuuri’s shoulder as the bell on the front door gave a cheery jingle. Victor scanned the small coffee shop and lit up when he saw the duo in the corner. “Phichit, what do we do?” whispered Yuuri as Victor beelined towards them. Before Phichit could reply, Victor was standing before Yuuri, blindingly radiant in an understated black turtleneck and slim pants.

            “Yuuri! I’m so glad to see you again! And Phichit Chulanont, right? Great to meet you! I am running a tad bit late for a meeting with my coach, but was just passing by and hoped you’d be in here,” he said, directing the end of his sentence towards Yuuri, who flushed in response. “I’m having a somewhat self-indulgent Welcome to Detroit party for myself tonight and wanted to extend the invite to you both! It’s at The Westin on Washington Boulevard, do you know of it? It’s not all that special but it has a nice bar that I rented out. Anyway, I’m rambling. But I hope to see you both there?” Victor flashed another award-winning smile at the mute pair.

            After a moment of stunned silence, Phichit gave a subtle kick to Yuuri’s leg under the coffee table.

            “Oh, um, thank you for the invitation. I’ll see if my evening is clear,” he finished lamely, feeling Phichit’s blistering stare on the side of his face. Victor’s smile flickered for a moment before he replaced it with a plastic one, and he nodded and left as abruptly as he’d come.

            “Yuuri, are you trying to sabotage yourself or something? Watching videos of a guy you’re obviously crushing on and then being wishy-washy about a party invite when he went out of his way to invite you?”

            Without warning, Yuuri slid low in his char and curled into a ball. With a low voice, he said “Why on _earth_ would Victor even want me there.”

            Phichit leaned closer. “We are going to go to that party. You’re an amazing friend who has supported me from that very first Intro to Art class we had together that I thought would be an easy credit, and if Victor has any sense, which apparently he does, he’ll realize what a kind, talented, wonderful person you are,” he said in a rush. Yuuri looked up at him through his long eyelashes, sighed, and pulled out his phone once more.

            “There’s one thing I should do first,” he said begrudgingly, and then tilted his phone towards Phichit and hit the ‘follow’ button on Victor’s page. Phichit grinned at him and Yuuri grinned back.

* * *

             “Do you think this yellow is too much?”

            Phichit walked into the living room holding his shirt and was startled to see that Yuuri was no longer in it. The two friends were back in their apartment trying to prepare for the night and Yuuri was trying his best not to go into hysterics.

            “Yuuri?”

            “One moment please.” Yuuri shut the door behind him and then began pacing in his room, running anxious hands through his freshly-washed hair. He felt totally out of his element, getting ready to go to a party presumably full of celebrities while he spent the usual night in mismatched pajamas scribbling in his sketchbook or accidentally drinking paint water instead of coffee. He sat heavily on his twin bed and rested his head on his hands when there was a knock at his door.

            “Hey, can I come in?” Yuuri gave a noncommittal noise and Phichit gently opened the door, holding two tall shots of vodka. Yuuri wordlessly took the glass Phichit handed him.

            “Victor is obviously interested in you, there’s no point in getting all stressed out.” Yuuri raised a skeptical eyebrow in response. “And you never answered my question. Yellow shirt?”

            “Yeah, that looks nice. Do you think this is okay?” Yuuri stood and shrugged his shoulders. He wore black slacks he never had any occasion to wear and a charcoal button-down with silver stripes. His hair was still swept back from his temples from his nervous quirks, but it suited him, and he had switched his glasses to contacts for the evening. Somewhat pinched looking from too many late nights, Yuuri looked willowy and striking. Phichit smiled at him and clinked his shot glass against his own, and then the two boys downed them and shuddered.

            “Victor won’t know what hit him.” Phichit’s phone dinged. “Oh, that’s the uber, you ready?”

            Yuuri scrutinized himself in the mirror over his bed and straightened his spine. “Ready if you are, I guess,” he said, voice wavering with resolve. Yuuri took a steadying breath and hoped that he could handle what the night held.

* * *

            When their elevator arrived at the party, they both had to pause a moment to take it all in. The bar was on the hotel roof, tastefully decorated with modern stools lining a long bar, standing in front of what must have been hundreds of bottles of liquor glimmering like jewels. Every couple of feet were private sofas, beautiful people reclining upon them, warming themselves on stylish fireplaces. Past the edge of the roof stood the Detroit skyline, protruding proudly into the night. Yuuri gave a low whistle.

            “Oh, I think I see Guang Hong! Do you wanna come with me?” asked Phichit.

            “I’ll go get a round of drinks, don’t worry about it,” said Yuuri. He watched his friend go and then tried to collect himself with little success. He felt borderline tipsy and knew that was the only thing keeping him from sprinting to the elevator. A tall man with a two toned undercut contemplated him from a nearby fireplace, leaning down to whisper into the ear of a severe teen with shoulder-length blonde hair, who stared coolly towards him. Yuuri turned and headed towards the bar. When a waiter passed by with flutes of champagne, he swiftly drank one and handed it back with a mumbled “thank you.”

            Yuuri leaned on the bar, running a finger against smooth marble. Looking around, he saw that the bartender was helping someone down to his right. He tried to relax. Everything was fine; he hadn’t done anything to embarrass himself yet and was feeling pleasantly warm from either the spring air or the quick succession of drinks. Yuuri closed his eyes when suddenly a gentle pressure took him out of his thoughts. Looking back down at the bar, he saw a slender hand resting upon his own. Yuuri turned around and was suddenly facing Victor, closer than he’d ever been. He gulped thickly when he noticed their obvious height difference, and Victor leaned down towards his ear, lips moving against his hair and the other hand upon his shoulder.

            “Yuuri, you actually came! I thought you might be sick of me. Could I get you a drink?”

            He nodded with a bashful smile as Victor slid next to him. Yuuri felt Victor hip-to-hip as he grinned at him, which caused a nauseating wave of butterflies to flutter through Yuuri’s stomach.

            “Um, so, what brings you to Detroit?” he asked as Victor raised a finger towards the bartender, who immediately started pouring a tray of shots.

            “Can I let you in on a secret?” he said conspiratorially. Yuuri leaned closer, prompting Victor’s arm to twine around his thin waist. Yuuri felt his heart kick into double-time and tried to focus on the sound of Victor’s voice which was mixing with the bar noise.

            “Detroit’s been chosen for the 2018 Olympics. I’ve just moved here to focus on training. But that isn’t nearly as interesting as why you’re here, Yuuri,” he purred.

            Yuuri’s full lips broke into a sweet smile in response, which caused Victor to tug him closer.

            “I came to Detroit from Japan, for college. And I wasn’t good enough to get into school A so here I am, doing pet portraits and other demeaning things in my spare time. Nothing too exciting.”

            “Nonsense!” shouted Victor as he took two shots from the bartender. He handed one to Yuuri, which they tapped together before quickly drinking.

            Yuuri was feeling good. His throat burnt from the liquor, but the constant stream of worry was a dull roar in the back of his mind as he bonelessly leaned against Victor’s side. He felt the thump of bass from the music in the background and was, for the moment, glad he’d decided to come. The silver-haired man stared transfixed at Yuuri. The moment stretched with the anticipation of something pivotal approaching.

            Daringly, Yuuri turned, grabbed a shot, Victor’s loose hand, and started walking towards the firepit area. Seeing Phichit with the intimidating duo from earlier, Yuuri competently weaved through the crowd of partygoers in their direction.

            Victor willed himself to not gawk at Yuuri’s butt, but failed immediately, giving in to Yuuri’s demure sway of his hips. Chris raised a knowing eyebrow at him and winked.

            “Phichit, your shot, you’re very welcome,” slurred Yuuri as he thrust it into his hand. “I’d like you to meet Vi-hic-Victor Nikiforov.”

            “Uh, yeah, we met,” laughed Phichit as he swallowed his shot. “Yuuri, maybe you should slow down, yeah?”

            “Nah, I like this Yuuri,” said Chris thoughtfully. Yuri scoffed from his side.

            “Nice to see you again, Phichit,” said Victor. “Now Yuuri, would you like to sit down for a second? Maybe have some water?”

            Yuuri allowed Victor to guide towards the closest firepit. Upon closer inspection, the couches were white satin. Yuuri thought drunkly how much of a pain it would be to get a stain out of them as they sat down. Victor slid close and, after a moment, rested an alabaster hand on his thigh. Wishing he’d push his hand down harder, or tangle his long fingers into his hair, something, anything, Yuuri reclined towards him. He watched the amber light from the fire dance across Victor’s features and marveled at how he was sitting next to someone so heartachingly beautiful.

            “Oh my, I’m very flattered! You’re pretty beautiful yourself,” said Victor. Yuuri realized with horror that he’d said the end of that thought out loud. He felt his inebriated composure slip for a moment, but endured.

            “You should be a model, not a skater. Actually, you should still do that too, you’re really really good at it,” Yuuri mumbled.

            “Have you seen me skate, Yuuri?” asked Victor jokingly.

            “Yes, I have, and you’re amazing. Oh! Victor! Could I draw you sometime? Not all creepy and secretive from across a café, but like, with your permission? I have a project where I’m supposed to sketch someone while they’re in movement, and the way you move is perfect.”

            Victor blushed and took Yuuri’s hand again. “I’ve been lacking inspiration lately, but I’m very flattered. I’d love that. You’re an remarkable artist." To his surprise, a dark look flitted over Yuuri’s features at the last statement and he pulled his hand away.

            “I’m sorry, I-I’ve got to go. Thanks for inviting me.” Victor watched with concern as Yuuri abruptly stood up, wavered, and then headed towards the elevator.

            Yuuri felt tears prickle the corner of his eyes as he ran out. His nails dug into the flesh of his palms and then he sent a quick “heading out, have fun” text to Phichit. Victor remained at the firepit alone, pain etched into his sharp features. For better or worse, Yuuri never ceased to surprise him.

* * *

* * *

**Notes:**     

Pyeongchang, South Korea has actually been selected to host the 2018 Olympics. But fun fact, Detroit was one vote away from hosting the 1968 Olympics, and holds the record for the city that has made the most Olympic bids and never landed a game. So please suspend your belief for that ;)

 

Thanks for reading!

 

 


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